Through the keyhole
by Terfle
Summary: Phryne turns up at Jack's door for once. How does he cope with her spontaneity?
1. Chapter 1

A smart clip clop of heels alerted him to her presence.

'Hello Hugh. Have you seen the Detective Inspector?'

Constable Hugh Collins looked up at the sparkling form of Miss Fisher, eagerly awaiting his answer.

'He's gone home Miss Fisher. He said he'll have an early night.'

Slight confusion and curiosity crossed her face. He'd seen it before but not in relation to the Detective Inspector.

'May I have his address? I have a possible lead. It might be a help in the investigation.'

'Well…I suppose, seeing as it's you, Miss.'

He scribbled down the address, she thanked him and waltzed out of the police station. Constable Hugh Collins wondered what information she had to share with the DI. Must be important if she had to go to his house.


	2. Chapter 2

She had her ammunition ready, she'd spotted the house and she wended her way to it, across the fog of the evening. She was prepared to pick the lock if he wasn't there, just to get a sneak peek of Jack Robinson's house but she needn't have worried. He was in. A light from behind the front room curtains signalled it. She wasn't sure what to imagine.

She pressed an immaculate gloved finger to the bell and listened to the echo of it ring across the hallway. She heard a gentle tramp of feet and it wasn't long before he came into view, for once on the other side of the door. It was a strange role reversal and she wasn't sure about how to feel about it.

She smiled most winningly in the face of his palpable surprise.

'Hello Jack.'

He stood there foolishly doing a good impression of a codfish.

'Miss Fisher. What may I ask are you doing here?'

'Stopping by. I think you haven't had dinner yet.'

In astonishment, he inclined his head and let her in. She had a radar for knowing when he needed to be nourished. He loved Mr Butler's kitchen offerings and she used it mercilessly against him.

'How did you know?' He asked needlessly as he followed her sashay into the kitchen. She knew where that was too. Although it wasn't difficult to find it, given that the house was so small. She set her basket of ammunition on the counter.

'You have that lean hungry look' she said absentmindedly as she took in the stark environment. Only 2 sets of plates and cutlery and 2 glasses. Perfect for now but humiliating for him in the long run, showing visitors what a lonely life he led.

He knew she was assessing everything with her eagle-eyed glance and surmised correctly that she felt a little bit sorry for him. It wasn't a good feeling. It wouldn't take her long to find out that he lived mainly on eggs, bread and tins of various foodstuffs. Noting all of this while she busily unpacked, she turned around and invited him to a picnic involving Mr Butler's cottage pie and various other treats, including a treacle sponge pudding. They could warm it up in the tiny oven. Trying not to seem to keen, he stoically agreed to the more than pleasing plan.

They ate on trays in the living room. Jack hadn't got a dining room. He was slightly shocked to be eating in the living room instead of the kitchen but he acquiesced to this unorthodox arrangement. Phryne in turn was astounded by the unwelcoming spartan house. It seemed cold and forlorn, perhaps influencing the Detective Inspector's mood. The place needed a woman's touch. The only evidence of anything personal was the red patterned Persian rug on the floor which sparked with warmth. She wondered if was the only bit of his marriage that he had taken with him.


	3. Chapter 3

Taking advantage of Jack cleaning and clearing the plates in the kitchen, she made the excuse of going to use the WC so she could creep upstairs and investigate. She found that up a narrow dark staircase led to a tiny practically unlived in bathroom; just a toothbrush, shaving instruments and some toothpaste were on hand. The soap on the bathtub was half used and smelt of sandalwood. The towels were a murky grey and not so soft.

The other room was much more to her liking. More potential here. The bed was a bit harder than she liked and the duvet was a plain grey marl but that could be changed. She made a beeline for the wardrobe and peeked inside. She had correctly calculated that he owned 3 suits. 2 were in there and the third he was wearing, minus the waistcoat and jacket which was folded neatly over the chair. At present, his shirt collar was undone to 2 buttons down and his tie was up here. His feet were encased in a pair of standard black socks as his shoes were under the chair. So the good DI did relax a bit when he was at home. All of this she had noticed while sitting in the living room with him. He looked good liberated from his stiff buttoned up collars. She could see a hint of curling chest hair. She liked it. She wanted to see more.

He had little other choice from his wardrobe to flick through and she soon got bored of rifling through his ties. She made a mental note to buy him a new one for Christmas. Next she looked around for personal articles. She had a feeling that he kept them safe in drawers and again, correctly calculated that there weren't very many of them. Out of rare courtesy she didn't snoop. She did come across a wedding picture propped up on the table she was sure she knew the subjects of. She took hold of it and stared intently.

She was so engrossed that she didn't hear his heavy tread echo her route as he walked in to find her sitting on the bed examining his parents wedding photograph.

'What are you doing Miss Fisher?' He all but growled. The woman was a liability.

She looked up and exclaimed 'Oh Jack, you look so much like your mother!'

That stopped him in his tracks. He unfurrowed his brow, simmering down his thunder and a rare smile broke out.

Phryne smiled back. She knew already that he had loved his mother intently. Now she had the proof.

Jack really didn't know what to make of his visitor. Even out of her natural environment she sparkled and glowed, making the empty space seem warm and inviting. The house seemed mournful when she had gone.


End file.
